


Crying Makes You Strong

by WednesdayTheWriter



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Caring Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Needs a Hug (Good Omens), Crowley Whump (Good Omens), Crowley has Trauma from the Fall (Good Omens), Crying, Forehead Kisses, Head Injury, Hugs, Hurt Crowley, Hurt/Comfort, I just can’t stop writing nightmare fics apparently, Injury, It’s implied that they live together but not explicitly stated, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Other, Whump, this is unrelated to my other nightmare fic, this was written for me but if you like it that’s always a bonus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:26:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29945139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WednesdayTheWriter/pseuds/WednesdayTheWriter
Summary: Crowley has a nightmare and accidentally hurts himself in his panic. Aziraphale finds him and helps him get back on his feet.(Yes, this is my second fic where Crowley has a nightmare. No, I’m not going to stop.)
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Kudos: 55





	Crying Makes You Strong

**Author's Note:**

> This isn’t related to my other nightmare fic, I just really enjoy writing these! 
> 
> Also just a quick warning, this does contain slight descriptions of injuries.

“I’ll never forgive you.” 

Crowley watched as the angel, his angel, glared at him in fury. He was being dragged away. Dragged away from him. 

“WAIT!” Crowley screamed. “NO!” 

“Shut up,” said Aziraphale. A demon next to him laughed loudly, lighting a match. 

“Say goodbye to your boyfriend,” said the demon, raising the match to Aziraphale’s face. Crowley screamed as he realized what it was. Hellfire.

“He doesn’t deserve to be forgiven. Just do it,” said Aziraphale.

“As you wish,” said the demon. 

Aziraphale closed his eyes as they lifted the match to his head. He looked so calm, so unbothered. And then there was the screaming. One moment he was silent, the next Crowley couldn’t hear anything else. Aziraphale’s screams echoed through Crowley’s chest, as if he was the one screaming instead. 

“NO! NO, PLEASE STOP-“ Crowley screamed. He ran forward, and the world went black. 

CRASH.

Crowley felt his head crash against something as he fell off his bed, tangled in his covers. A stabbing pain shot through his hand. Aziraphale. He had to find Aziraphale. He tried to stand up and promptly fell over, slamming his head against the bedside table again. He felt tears running down his cheeks as he hyperventilated, the world spinning around him. “Aziraphale,” he said. He meant to scream, but it came out as a whisper. 

He heard a knock at the door. Someone was coming. They were going to take Aziraphale from him again. He was going to die. Crowley cried out, but the face who greeted him wasn’t a demon. It was Aziraphale himself.

“I heard a noise, is everything-“ Aziraphale’s face fell as he saw Crowley on the floor, gasping for breath and looking up at him with terrified eyes. A large bruise was forming on his forehead, and his hand was laying at a strange angle. “Oh dear,” said Aziraphale. He rushed over and helped Crowley back into the bed, untangling him from the covers. 

“No, no, no... please no...” Crowley whimpered, the yellow in his eyes expanding to cover most of the white area. He drew his knees up to his chest, a terrified expression on his face. “Aziraphale...”

“Dear boy, it’s me. I’m right here,” said Aziraphale, sitting on the bed next to Crowley. He sat there for a moment in silence, then finally spoke again.

“Gh... Aziraphale...?” said Crowley, rubbing his head and blinking rapidly, as if he was waking up again.

“I’m here, I’m here. What happened? Are you alright?”

“Y...yeah sorry... just a bad dream,” said Crowley. He tried to pull his face into his usual smirk, but he couldn’t. 

“You’re hurt...” said Aziraphale. “Can you...?”

“Ngk... I’ll do it later...” said Crowley. It wasn’t that he couldn’t heal it, it just took a lot of energy for him to do so. 

“Here, I can’t fix it completely all at once, you being another supernatural being and all, but I can at least stop it from getting worse,” said Aziraphale, gently placing his hand on Crowley’s forehead.

“It’s alright...” said Crowley quickly.

“No it isn’t,” interrupted Aziraphale. “Hold still.” 

A warm, glowing sensation filled Crowley’s body. He breathed a sigh of relief as some of the pain drained away. It still hurt, but it stopped feeling like he had been stabbed in the head, which was a huge improvement. 

“Let me see your hand now, alright?” said Aziraphale, lifting his own hand from Crowley’s forehead. Crowley held out his hand, and Aziraphale examined it. 

“Your hand isn’t broken, thank goodness, but I think you might have broken a finger. I’m not sure exactly how you did that falling off the bed, but I’ll try my best to mend it,” he said, taking Crowley’s hand in his own. The warm sensation was back, and after a moment Crowley could feel the bones in his pinky finger click back together. 

“Thanks,” he said quietly as the piercing pain in his hand shrunk into an ache. 

“Of course,” said Aziraphale. “Why were you saying my name when I came in?” 

“Gh- uh... well...” Crowley fidgeted with his hands, slumping slightly. “You were there. In the dream. You...” he trailed off. 

Aziraphale looked at him with kind, shining eyes. “You don’t have to talk about it,” he said. Crowley shook his head.

“‘S alright. You, um...” his voice cracked as he continued, his yellow eyes beginning to fill with water again. “They killed you. With... with hellfire.” His voice lowered to a hoarse whisper as a tear made its way out of his eye. “You said you could never forgive me. And then... and then you were gone.” He hastily wiped the tear away. Keep it together, you idiot. He gritted his teeth, trying to stay calm.

“Oh, Crowley,” said Aziraphale quietly. “I would never say that.”

“I... I think I betrayed you or something. In the dream, I mean. And... and then they...” he cut off, looking away and squeezing his eyes shut to try to stop the tears that were now flowing flowing freely down his cheeks.

“Even then. I would never, ever say anything like that. It wouldn’t even cross my mind,” said Aziraphale. “And you would never betray me.”

“I... I know... but what if I did? Like, by accident...?”

“Then we would work through it together. I would forgive you, and- oh, Crowley, don’t...” Crowley had buried his face in his hands, digging his fingernails into his scalp. 

The thing about demons is that crying is seen as a trait of weakness among them. If they’re caught crying, they’re punished immediately. The only other time Crowley could remember crying like this was when the bookshop had burned down, and even then he was in too much shock to completely break down. So when Crowley cried, he cried. Years upon years of suppressed emotions came collapsing down on him, nearly crushing him under their weight. 

“It’s alright, Crowley. I promise I’m alright.” Aziraphale gently removed Crowley’s hands from his face, replacing them with his own. He held Crowley’s head in his hands, gently wiping his tears away. Crowley looked at the angel with huge, wet eyes, choking back a sob. “Oh, come here,” said Aziraphale quietly, opening his arms. Crowley collapsed into them, burying his face in Aziraphale’s shoulder. “You’re trembling...” Aziraphale held Crowley tightly against him, his own eyes beginning to water. Crowley made a small noise, his entire body shaking. Aziraphale gently rubbed his back, a tear running down his own face. 

“I’m sorry... I’m so sorry...” whispered Crowley. Those were words Crowley only ever spoke occasionally, and Aziraphale knew he wasn’t just apologizing for crying. He was apologizing for everything. For falling, for all the times they’d fought, for everything he’d ever done wrong. 

“It’s all alright. I forgive you. It’s okay.”

“Nnhhh...” Crowley sobbed into Aziraphale’s jacket, thousands of years worth of pain pouring out of his eyes and all over the bed.

“Shhh...” Aziraphale startled as he felt more tears coming out of his own eyes, falling onto Crowley’s back. “Shhh. You’re safe. I forgive you. It’s alright.”

Aziraphale was slightly jarred, seeing Crowley cry. He was one of the strongest people Aziraphale knew. But... Aziraphale closed his eyes as Crowley sobbed into his coat. He remembered something he’d told Warlock, at a time that felt like either millions of years or only five minutes ago. It was when Warlock had fallen on the ground, skinning his knee. The young boy was crying, but clearly trying to hide it.

“It’s alright, young Warlock,” Aziraphale had said. “Crying doesn’t make you weak, it makes you strong! After all, crying releases your emotions so you can help more people. That’s what it’s for!” 

Aziraphale blinked, smiling slightly at the memory. It makes you strong. He held Crowley tighter, wondering when the demon had last cried, and how many times he’d intended to. Crowley had never seemed like the type to cry, but at the same time, he must be carrying so much. Aziraphale couldn’t imagine falling, not to mention if he’d almost lost Crowley, instead of the other way around... he shuddered and decided not to think about it. Instead, he ran his fingers through Crowley’s hair, letting himself cry quietly too.

Crowley sobbed for a good thirty minutes, his face still buried in Aziraphale’s coat. Years and years of uncared for emotions slowly drained out of him, taking the form of large, wet tears.

After a while, Crowley looked up at Aziraphale, sniffling and smiling slightly.

“S...sorry about that, angel. I guess I was doing a bit worse than I thought,” said Crowley, embarrassed. 

“No, no, don’t apologize, Crowley. It’s quite alright. Are you feeling a bit better now?”

“Yeah,” said Crowley, nodding. 

“Does it still hurt?” asked Aziraphale, touching the bruise on Crowley’s head, then his hand. 

“Only a bit. I’m alright,” he said. 

Aziraphale nodded, holding Crowley’s injured hand between his own. “Good. If it gets worse again, just let me know and I can do another miracle. For now, do you need anything? I can get you some ice, if you’d like.”

Crowley nodded, his eyes far away. “That... that would be good.”

Aziraphale stood up, nodding at Crowley and hurrying out of the room. He came back in holding a couple of ice packs and a blanket.

Crowley laughed softly. “Angel, there’s already a blanket in here.”

“Yes, but this one’s softer,” said Aziraphale. He sat back down on the bed, laying the blanket out so it covered both of them. He took Crowley’s hand and gently pressed one of the ice packs against it, handing him the other one.

“I can do it, Angel-“ said Crowley, but Aziraphale shook his head. 

“It’s alright.” He kept holding Crowley’s hand, gently holding the ice against it. Crowley closed his eyes, the cold numbing the pain. 

“Better?” asked Aziraphale.

“Mhm,” said Crowley, nodding. He took the other ice pack and put it against his head for a moment, letting the cold soak into the bruise. 

“Crowley?” asked Aziraphale. 

“Hm?” 

“Is this the first time you’ve... y’know...”

“...No.” Crowley didn’t elaborate. He didn’t have to.

“Oh... why didn’t you tell me?”

“They’re just nightmares,” said Crowley. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

“But clearly I do,” said Aziraphale, gesturing at Crowley’s head. 

“Well, normally I don’t fall off the bed and hurt myself.”

“Crowley, you just cried for half an hour,” said Aziraphale. “Of course this is something I need to worry about.”

“But-“

“No. No ‘buts.’”

Crowley sighed. “I mean, I’ve dealt with worse. What are you gonna do, you know?”

“I’ll stay with you,” said Aziraphale. 

“...What?”

“I’ll stay with you. When you sleep. That way, if you have another nightmare, I’ll be there with you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you have better things to do,” said Crowley.

“I can read in here,” said Aziraphale. “It really isn’t an issue.”

“...If you say so.”

Aziraphale was quiet for a moment as he held the ice pack against Crowley’s hand, lightly rubbing his thumb in circles along the back of it. 

“I’ll wait ‘til later, though. To sleep. I’m... not really tired anymore.”

“Alright.” Aziraphale put a gentle hand on Crowley’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. He cupped Crowley’s cheek in his hand, smiling. 

“Sorry you had to see that...” said Crowley, his ears turning pink.

“Dear boy, don’t apologize. I just hope you’re doing alright now.”

“Yeah. I’m doing a lot better. Thanks.” Crowley smiled, and it wasn’t just his usual smirk. It was a real, genuine smile. 

“Oh, I meant to ask,” said Aziraphale, “I apologize if this is a sensitive subject, it’s alright if you don’t want to answer. But... when I discorporated, I came back and found you at the bar, drinking. And you appeared to be very upset. Is there something that happened that I don’t know about?”

“...Oh,” said Crowley, realizing that there was no way the angel could have known. He sighed, and Aziraphale quickly spoke again.

“It’s alright if you don’t want to talk about it,” he said.

“‘S alright,” said Crowley, shifting positions on the bed. “There were... there were two thoughts going through my head when I found your bookshop burning down. Neither of them were pleasant.”

“...Oh...?”

“Either you’d been discorporated, in which case Heaven would get to you before I did, or...” Crowley trailed off, looking away. “...Or it was hellfire.”

“Oh, Crowley...” Aziraphale said. It hadn’t even occurred to him that Crowley could have seen the fire and thought Aziraphale was gone for good. “I should have realized...”

“No,” said Crowley sharply. “Not your fault.”

Aziraphale sniffled, gently squeezing Crowley’s hand. “...Alright.” He looked up at Crowley, wishing there was more he could say. “Would you, er... would you like some tea?”

“...Sure.” 

Crowley hadn’t had tea in quite a while. He didn’t eat or drink very much other than alcoholic beverages. But as Aziraphale walked out of the room and back in carrying two steaming mugs of tea, he made a mental note to have tea more often. The smell was relaxing, and as he sipped it slowly from the mug he felt his insides warm up. Aziraphale smiled as he drank his own tea, enjoying Crowley’s presence. 

As they both finished the last of their tea and sat their mugs on the nightstand, Aziraphale put a gentle hand on Crowley’s cheek, wiping away the last of his tears. Then he leaned forward, softly kissing Crowley’s forehead where he’d hit it on the nightstand.

“Ngk- Angel...” Crowley looked at Aziraphale with wide eyes. 

“You’re important to me, Crowley. So, so, important. Don’t you ever forget that,” whispered Aziraphale. 

“Thank you, Angel,” said Crowley softly. “You’re important to me too.”

Aziraphale cradled Crowley’s hand in his own, smiling. “I know, dear boy. I know.”


End file.
